Winchester First Aid
by RayneSummer
Summary: They've never taken courses or anything, but both brothers are well trained and know exactly what's needed with an injury or illness.
1. Chapter 1

**I've always noted Winchester first aid methods, and I just love the way that after so many years, they know almost exactly what to. What comes first, how to deal with it, what's hospital-worthy, what's ambulance-worthy and what just needs rest. So here are a collection of paragraphs about Winchester first aid methods. Some are tagged to episodes. Don't own anything, as always. Enjoy and review.**

**Summary: They've never taken courses or anything, but both brothers know exactly how to react and deal with an injury or sickness. **

* * *

Sam was down and the ghost was still kicking. That was all Dean needed to know right now.

The hunter quickly rolled to his feet and ran back to the grave where he had been thrown from. He gave a quick glance towards the tree, where his brother lay sprawled at the bottom, down and out.

Right. His training kicked in.

_Step one: ensure the danger is gone_

Dean grabbed the lighter from the side of the grave, flicked it and dropped it. Within a second the bones were burning merrily away. _Check._

Done. Next.

_Step two: check for life signs_

Dean was knelt by his little brother in an instant once the threat was gone. Without even touching Sam, he could see that he was breathing and that was a big plus in Dean's book, especially having seen how hard that damn ghost threw him. Alive, Dean would take gladly. _Check._

Good. Next.

_Step three: triage - watch carefully for reactions_

Gently, Dean ghosted his practiced hands over his unconscious brother's body. He couldn't feel any broken bones, but when he pressed down slightly on Sam's ribs, the kid winced. Dean checked again, assessing the damage. Bruised, not broken. Excellent.

Then, the most prominent worry. Quickly, Dean pushed his fingers through Sam's too-long hair, looking for the bump or cut that was going to be there. He found it and assessed. Small, bleeding sluggishly. No reaction from his unconscious brother. Sam had been lucky.

One more visual scan and Dean was done. _Check._

Minimal damage, considering. Dean would take it. Next.

_Step four: consciousness_

One word; a lot of meaning. Especially in head injuries. Unconsciousness was a big no-no and meant hospital. Consciousness was much better. Dean set about waking his brother up, hoping he would, as always.

Calling his name, checking for pain reactions, and urging wakefulness. If that didn't work, nothing did. Sam stirred at the second, and his eyes opened at the third. Encouragement. The younger hunter was awake and mostly alert. Yes. _Check._

_Step five: safety_

Last step; a lot of reliability. Quiet, soothing, encouragement. Arm over shoulder. Standing okay mostly on his own. That was good. Dean made sure to keep Sam calm. Panicking wasn't good. It kept him calm too.

They made it to their black haven with minimal stumbling. She pulled out and sped them to safety as soon as she could.

Dean glanced over at his injured brother in the passenger seat, the graveyard behind them. He smiled softly. Five steps; about two minutes. Record time. This was something he could fix.


	2. Chapter 2

Abandon All Hope

Lucifer was up, bullet wound healed; Dean was down, hard and fast; Sam was terrified, now alone.

The second the devil turned away, he moved.

Quickly, Sam crept over to Dean and knelt beside him. After a glance at Lucifer, the little brother turned all his attention to the fallen hunter.

He slipped two fingers under Dean's jacket collar, pressing them against his neck. After a second, a slow but strong pulse was felt.

Sam breathed out a breath he didn't know he had been holding. Good. He could go from here. He could fix this.

The devil was talking again; Sam glanced up, hatred in his gaze.

After a moment, he stood up. Without feeling his brother's heartbeat, panic returned full force. Sam put his anger in front of it.

Lucifer overrode him, as always.

Sam looked down in terror and shame.

When the devil turned back to his ritual, Sam was on his knees again.

He grounded himself with his brother's pulse, showing him he was not alone.

Dean had been down for a while now though.

Sam counted the beats and did some maths, and sighed and put his hand on Dean's shoulder instead.

He would be okay. He would wake up soon.

Sam turned half his attention back to the devil.

There was a rustle of movement next to him. Dean.

Transfixed on Lucifer's ritual, Sam simply let himself listen to Dean without turning to him for a minute.

The ritual ended; the demons were dead.

Sam was just thinking how to get them out of this when Cas turned up.

A second later they were at Bobby's yard, and Dean was sagging from his grip.

Panic grabbed Sam and he grabbed Dean, carefully bringing them both to the ground.

He carried out a triage, what he hadn't been able to do when he was so scared.

Back bruising and a concussion matching the lump on Dean's head.

Sam nodded; blew out a breath. Fixable.

He waited a moment, then pulled Dean up.

Stumbled into the house with his brother.

Soon they were both settled on the sofa, Dean conscious but tired, and Sam just tired.

He took care of his brother first though.

Another moment later, and Dean was half asleep, lying on the couch.

Sam checked him again before he let him shut his eyes.

The young hunter sighed and glanced up at the eldest, watching the brothers with sadness in his eyes.

Sam gave one nod to show all was good. They could grieve in the morning.


	3. Chapter 3

**There's more coming unless I say there's not... but I don't think I'll ever be done with hurt and protective brothers! Here's another one for now ;) Hurt!Sam because I was thinking about it. It's not very long but hopefully I'll write some more during the half term of next week. You can prompt me if you want! Review and enjoy, as always~**

* * *

The poltergeist threw Sam back against the stone wall and Dean, on the other side of the barn trying to light the bones, winced as he saw Sam slide to the ground with a loud groan. His back was going to hurt like a bitch for the next few days.

Dean quickly lit the lighter and let it fall onto the pile of bones. The poltergeist whipped around and snarled at Dean before burning into flames along with his bones. Dean smirked.

"See ya in hell, fugly," he muttered, gaze sliding over to Sam without another thought.

The kid was still just sitting against the wall, looking kind of dazed. Dean's big brother worry clicked on and he slowly walked towards his little brother.

"Sammy?" Hey."

Sam jumped at the sound of Dean's voice and then winced at the pain that that action sent through his body. He shifted slightly and blinked owlishly at Dean when the hunter knelt down next to him, face twisted in concern.

"Sam? Talk to me. You okay?"

Sam blinked at Dean again and frowned. He had a feeling he should say something; should do something to stop that note of panic in his big brother's voice. But he didn't, and Dean got more scared.

"Alright..." Dean hesitated. Sam either couldn't or wouldn't talk, and he didn't know know why or how badly he was hurt as a result.

_Right, start with a check over then, Winchester_, he told himself, automatically taking charge as panic threatened to swamp him.

"Hey." He waited until Sam's confused eyes focused on him, then gave the kid what he hoped was an encouraging smile. "Just gonna check you over, kay? Shout if anything hurts."

Sam didn't react, and Dean sighed. He really would like Sam to talk right about now.

Carefully, Dean did a quick visual triage. Apart from the fact that Sam was still sitting where he had fallen on his ass, Dean couldn't see anything that looked broken or majorly hurt. Of course, he could never be sure, and he would check again back at the motel.

Sam was starting to close his eyes. That was a clue.

"Hey! Stay awake for the minute, dude. I gotta check you out," he told his little brother, who started and swung his wild gaze to Dean.

Dean took the reaction as a chance to finish his quick check over; reaching behind his brother's head, he carefully felt through Sam's hair and was surprised and worried to find a rather big bump there that, when he pulled his fingers back to inspect them, seemed to be bleeding.

Well. Crap.

"Sammy?" Dean said quietly. This time Sam didn't even meet his eyes, so Dean brought his unbloodied hand up to turn Sam's face towards him. "Hey. Look at me."

Sam gave him a weary look before sighing and closing his eyes. Dean's worry spiked.

"Hey! Sam, we gotta move, okay?"

He didn't wait for an answer; simply standing up and dragging his brother with him. Sam seemed to be able to stand fairly okay - at least for now - so that was something.

Dean kept a firm hold of Sam's arm as he practically marched them back to the Impala. He pushed Sam into the passenger seat and went round to the driver's side.

A second later they were pulling out and heading for either the motel or hospital.

Dean glanced at Sam in concern. The kid was out again. "Sam! Hey!" A second's delay before Sam reacted sluggishly, blinking at Dean.

"Hm?" More of a sound than speech, but Dean would take it right now.

"We need a hospital?" Dean asked, knowing Sam probably wouldn't reply coherently.

As an answer, his brother sighed and seemed to lose the battle to stay conscious at all, slumping down in the seat and head hitting the window, making Dean jump.

"Wow! Hey, Sam? Sammy?!" Dean swore under his breath as he got no response. Hospital it was. He wasn't taking any chances.

* * *

A day later found two - fully coherent - Winchester brothers in their motel room, packing up.

It was mostly silent apart from the click of weapons as they sorted out their bags. They needed to blow town soon, especially as Dean had signed Sam out of the hospital AMA a day earlier than they would have liked.

The results hadn't been _too _too bad; a pretty major concussion and a bit of fluid on the brain that had caused the whole non-speaking thing. Something that could be fixed both quickly and in time, which didn't really make any sense.

After promising to Sam's doctor that they would take it easy for a couple of days and not let his brother hit any more stones with his head, the good-humored man had let them go.

"We finished the job, right?" Sam asked suddenly, thinking.

Dean glances up in mock concern. "Do we need to go back to the hospital? Memory loss, dude."

Sam rolled his eyes and Dean smirked.

They finished packing and shouldered their bags, Dean leading out to the car. Shoving their stuff in the back, Sam and Dean got in their respective seats - of course Sam couldn't drive with a head injury - and were soon headed away to their next job.

Just a few miles along the road...

"I'm surprised you decided on hospital that quickly."

A glance. "Dude, when you - of all people - suddenly go mute and start looking at me like I'm an alien, then I know something's really up."

A pause. "An alien?"

A shrug. "Well, usually, I'm awesome."

A smirk and a bitchface and the brothers are done, another job finished.


	4. Chapter 4

**I know I haven't updated in ages, but I've been busy at college and things and ugh just life. So to take it easier, I decided I'd do a prompt that 'Lilybolt' said: "what about a chapter in which Sam or Dean break a bone", which is a great idea! It's Dean, because I seem to be going in order, and it's Dean's turn to - *cough*be tortured*cough* - um *clears throat* get battered and bruised during a hunt. So here is, finally, another chapter.  
Please enjoy and review and prompts for future chapters would be appreciated! Do read on for lots of whining and angst, mainly on Dean's part...**

* * *

The hunt was supposed to be easy.

Yeah, right. When was _anything _ever easy for the Winchesters?

_Never_, Sam thought, as he got shoved back down onto the grass for about the tenth time in the last five minutes. He was faring better than Dean, though, who had decided to stand guard with the shotgun and therefore had the difficult task of keeping a very pissed off ghost from killing them while they tried to burn its bones.

The elder brother had already been tripped over and bashed against a tree. Luckily Dean happened to be strong than this particular ghost, and could fend off most of it's attacks. The main one had been a couple of minutes ago, where when he had tried to get the salt gun that had been thrown out of his hands, and the ghost had vengefully tripped him up. It had taken a moment or two to recover from and Sam had been starting to get concerned until Dean had gotten back up and grabbed the salt gun, aiming it once more.

Sam scrambled up again and lunged for the lighter that he had dropped. The ghost turned to him with a hiss and was about to push him again when a burst of salt disintegrated it for a minute. Sam took this opportunity to drop the lit device over the grave and breathed out a sigh of relief as he watched the bones burn into dust.

He glanced up, expecting to see Dean next to him, but was surprised to find his big brother on the ground, where the ghost had pushed him over last time, grimacing and rubbing his wrist. Sam's concern spiked. Maybe something had happened.

"Dean?" Sam walked towards his brother, who quickly snapped to attention and dropped his hands, looking innocently at Sam. "You good?"

Dean wrinkled his nose, sniffed, glanced around and nodded. "Yeah. Bein' out here in the cold ain't the funnest thing to do, though, Sam," he replied in his typical attitude. Sam rolled his eyes and offered Dean his hand. His brother took it with his right hand instead of his left, which was closer. That was it then.

"Alright. Let's clear up here and the head back," Sam said lightly. If he had any hope of taking Dean to a clinic then he couldn't mention anything until it was too late for Dean to back out. That was the way he had to work with his ignorant soul of a brother. Also, he couldn't show any pain himself from his aching back and legs. That would just put Dean completely off tangent.

The two hunters carefully cleaned up the desecrated grave site and shouldered their equipment, Sam watching his brother with a practiced eye. Sure enough, Dean used his right arm for everything, leaving his left stuffed in his pocket. Sam sighed. It was going to be hell getting his brother to let him look at it, and then persuading Dean to let them go to a clinic to have it seen to.

_Well, not the first time I've had to, and it won't be the last, so get on with it_, he told himself sternly. Ignoring things - especially injuries - doesn't make them go away, after all. And it was his job to look after Dean, too.

Safely back in the car, Sam casually walked around to the driver's side. He already had the keys, so it would be easy to make Dean let him drive. It was just a case of making up a reason why. However, Dean didn't even say anything; simply dumping the stuff in the trunk, closing it with his good hand, and getting in the passenger side, leaving Sam surprised and concerned.

He quickly followed Dean's example, and soon they were heading away. Sam hesitated. He wondered whether to take Dean to a clinic now, because he was already in the car, or wait until later, after he had finally acknowledged he was hurt. But the latter could take up to about a week, in a usual attitude. The former it was, despite his brother's whining and constant bitchfaces that Sam would get.

So into town he drove, and Dean started to become suspicious. They always went back to the motel, or their current place of home, after a hunt, whether they really needed to or not. If they didn't, then it was probably something seriously - usually to go to the hospital. Dean narrowed his eyes at Sam, who continued to look ahead at the road innocently.

"Sam. Where are you going?" Sam glanced over at Dean, who was giving him a scrutinizing stare, and winced. _Here comes the hard bit_, he thought.

He took a breath to grant him the patience needed to deal with an injured and ignorant Dean. "We're going to the clinic, Dean," he told his brother calmly. There was a pause, in which Sam could practically feel Dean's fuming.

"Why?" Dean demanded eventually, not liking this one bit.

Sam sighed. "Because of your wrist, Dean," he replied patiently.

It was more soon to become a battle of will and reason and Sam would rather avoid that. Thankfully, he spotted the clinic on the edge of town and pulled into a parking spot across from it. Glancing at Dean, he got out, calling, "come on!"

After a second of grinding his teeth and wondering how far Sam would go to get him out of the car, Dean sighed dramatically and got out himself. He glared at Sam across the roof of the Impala, to which the younger hunter only nodded his head towards the clinic in reply. _Sam is going to be so dead for this one_, Dean thought bitterly as he followed his brother across the road.

* * *

"Dude. Stop fiddling," Sam hissed at his brother as Dean tried to put his fingers under his cast again. Dean stopped and glared at just about everything in the consultation room. They were waiting for the doctor to come back with painkillers for him.

He had broken his wrist, as Sam thought, and thankfully it was a clean break, which meant no surgery, but did need a cast for four to six weeks. Sam had inwardly groaned at that. A casted Dean was _not _a good thought.

Dean resumed his attack on the cast with a vengeance when Sam glanced away. Sam was about to scold him again when the doctor came back in and both brothers stood up, looking at him expectantly.

"As I said before, the cast will have to remain on for up to six weeks." He glanced at Sam. "I'm pretty sure you can ensure this happens." Sam nodded and smirked at Dean's glare. The good-natured doctor smiled at the brother's teasing. "Also, it'll be pretty achy and itchy. He should take these up to three times a day, when he needs them." He handed a bag of tablets to Sam, who nodded.

"Got it, thanks. I'll keep him in line." Sam smiled sweetly at Dean's bitchface and the doctor grinned too.

"Very well then. I wish you the best of luck with him," the doctor added in a whisper to Sam, and winked. Sam grinned back and he and Dean headed out.

A couple of hours had passed since they had entered the clinic, and a fine rain had started to fall. Dean took one look at the Impala and sighed heavily.

"She's all wet now, Sam! Couldn't this have waited till tomorrow? I was going to get it checked out anyway!"

Sam just looked at Dean, standing next to his shining wet car, in the rain, with a brand new white cast on his arm, and thought of the doctor's words - 'good luck'.

Sam pointed to the car. "Get in, Dean." Still mumbling grumpily and brooding, Dean slowly got in and settled down. Sam got in beside him and immediately Dean gave him a glare for getting the seats wet.

Sam sighed as he started the engine. He'd need luck. But he wouldn't change his bitchy, whiny, pain in the ass brother for anything, even if it meant six weeks of hell for him. So they drove off in a burst of Metallica and a forced smile on Sam's face. Family. He shook his head wearily. Who ever said they were cooperative?


End file.
